Lyrical Breakdown of Street Punks - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Street Punks" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Vince Staples weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Street Punks" is a testament to masterful songwriting.
• Rhyme and Rhythm Analysis: Our Lazyjot editor highlights the ingenious use of multi-syllabic rhymes and the rhythm pattern that Vince Staples employs. Understand the construction of each verse and how it contributes to the song's overall impact.
• Syllable Pattern Insights: Dive deeper into the structural elements of the lyrics. See how the syllable count varies across the song, adding a unique rhythm and flow to Vince Staples's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Street Punks" not only celebrates Vince Staples's artistic prowess but also serves as an educational tool for aspiring songwriters. If this analysis inspires you and you'd like to see your own songs analyzed in this way, join the Lazyjot community. Register at Lazyjot and start exploring the full potential of your lyrical creativity. Turn your thoughts into rhymes and your rhymes into songs with Lazyjot!

I ain't worried about the police I ain't worried about these little niggas talking about they hold heat I ain't stressing going broke I don't never leave them residences alone, keep it on me I'm the nigga that you quote I'm the only conversation if you speaking up on Long Beach Get to acting like you know Don't be acting like you bold, get it cracking at a show Heard the FEDs taking pictures, let a motherfucker pose Tryna be the only Crippin' nigga sitting in the Vogue Better put me on the cover, undercovers at my home Tryna catch a nigga slippin', but I'm stickin' to the flow Heard these niggas flippin' coke, why the fuck these niggas broke? If there's shooters in the squad, what's the bodyguard for? You ain't calling me collect and I ain't pickin' up the phone Got some homies from the set who ain't never comin' home You wouldn't know about it You a street punk You a muthafuckin' street punk No one know about you You a street punk You a muthafuckin' street punk This'll blow up at you Where the cash at, where the cash at? Where ya pass at, where ya stash at? Bet my last rack you ain't have that Why? Cause you a muthafuckin' street punk! I don't know if ya heard of me But you heard them shots on the block, it's a murder scene Go on call the cops, open heart, durin' surgery Now his breathing stopped, stupid niggas should of knew we tripping Now he in a box, Winchester's Hundred in the box, Smith Wesson Stuff it to the top and we coming to your spot Knocking on the door, askin' where he at Playin' games then we kick it down, everybody flat On the ground, kids get kidnapped, go and ask 'bout it Well you know how we rocking, nigga, you know who we wackin' now You ain't never caught a body, know it cause you talkin' 'bout it Catch me off nado You a motherfucking street punk You a street punk You a muthafuckin' street punk No one know about you You a street punk You a muthafuckin' street punk This'll blow up at you Where the cash at, where the cash at? Where ya pass at, where ya stash at? Bet my last rack you ain't have that Why? Cause you a muthafuckin' street punk!